


a touch of romantics

by CaptainRivaini



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eleanor is The Worst, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, James is a Dork, John is a Mess, M/M, Max just wants everyone to be a bit more Romantic ffs, Misunderstandings, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6149899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainRivaini/pseuds/CaptainRivaini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a messy break up with the infamous Charles Vane, Flint’s plan of ruining Richard Guthrie’s Valentine party goes awry.</p>
<p>And then there’s John Silver. That’s complicated too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a touch of romantics

**F** lint’s phone buzzed and Eleanor watched as he picked it up, made a face that in her opinion resembled a horse trying to spit at a fly irritating its nostrils, and placed it back down on his beer coaster with a grunt. Before she could comment he picked it up again, turned to her and proceeded to read the message out loud, furiously spitting as he did so.

“Flint, don’t be such a fucking arsehole, pick up the phone so I can explain. I had to sleep with her because my dad was threatening to out us, and you know how he gets about anything to do with cock.” Flint paused and the deliberate look he gave Eleanor would have made her laugh any other time, but today she was covered in spit and well, that didn’t lighten her mood at all. 

Flint continued, brow furrowed. “Pick up the phone, you ginger prick.”

Eleanor sniggered into her bottle of beer. She was glad that the Fruit Tits Plant was running slow tonight and her employees were handling many of the other patrons littering the pub so she could see Flint being dramatic first-hand.

Besides, she wouldn’t have missed telling Flint how much of a dick Charles was for the world. That and ‘I told you so’.

She let out a sigh, reached over and tapped his hand sympathetically. “Told you he was going to do this to you.”

Flint glared up at her and shook his head. “Well thanks for reminding me that for once you were right.” He picked up his phone again when it began to buzz incessantly and snorted. “Pass me that spare beer on the side will you?”

Eleanor did so, removing the beer from the inebriated Naft who was slumped, fast asleep at the end of the bar, with her interest growing by the second when she planted it in front of Flint. 

Flint gave her a wolfish smile that Eleanor didn’t trust at all and placed his phone in the glass. He watched as the buzzing eventually stopped with his chin in his hands, looking almost strangely satisfied to see the device sink to the bottom like an anchor and eventually switch off.

Eleanor watched with her expression firmly changed, eyes wide and lip curled. “You know what, I’m just going to leave you to it and hope John can make you seem more human by the time I come back from collecting glasses.”

Flint didn’t know what Eleanor was talking about until he felt a hand press against his shoulder and squeeze. To that he only turned and was greeted with his sort-of-not-completely-sure-if-he-was-honest friend John Silver. 

Silver was dressed in his usual blue blazer, white button up shirt and black jeans and dress shoes, and as usual, looked like a million dollars. It made Flint roll his eyes when the other man turned up his sleeves and delicately perched himself on the seat next to him. It made him roll his eyes  _even harder_ when John flashed him a smile that no doubt made the idiots he spoke to at his club swoon.

John didn’t stop smiling even when Flint did nothing but glare back at him. Worse, he felt that the glare meant that Flint actually  _wanted_  him to talk.

“Let me guess,” his friend said, indicating at the now completely ruined phone with a frown that looked to be vaguely sympathetic, “Mr Vane’s father didn’t take kindly at you sticking your cock up his son’s arse?”

Despite the fact that John Silver was the bane of his very existence, Flint chuckled at that and soon Silver joined in a few moments after.

Silver had been dangling off the side of a building when Flint had first met him: his two sizes small blazer being hooked on one of the buildings large signs the only thing that kept him from falling to his death. Flint had been walking home with Eleanor to their once shared apartment when they had heard a scream, looked up and saw that a small, blue dot above them was crying out for help.

It had taken a lot of encouragement for Eleanor to run home and fetch the ladder but she had done so eventually, returning to prep the ladder for Flint to use - which frankly, had not been part of the agreement but Flint had agreed, with a sigh, to go up there and rescue the blue dot anyway.

Silver had been whiter than milk when Flint had unhooked him gently from the sign, grabbing his feet to rearrange him on the ladder, bit by bit.

“I’m here to rescue you,” Flint had explained. He also had tried not to stare so keenly at someone’s ass who he had just rescued but as he learned when both of them eventually started climbing down, it was much harder than it looked. “My name’s James, James Flint. How did you even manage to get up-”

That was when Silver had fallen, foot slipping on one of the steps of the ladder and his body crashing into Flint’s to send them both tumbling down.

“Eleanor watch out!” Flint remembered warning his friend mid-fall.

_“What the fuck?”_

Silver had simply screamed. All the way down. Right up until the point they had both landed on Eleanor, legs sprawled together and the sound of Eleanor threatening to break both of them in two if they didn’t get off of her in under 5 seconds.

However it had proved to be difficult to move anyone when one had a broken arm and the other a broken leg.

It was funny, Flint mused with a huff of laughter, at how you could make friends just by simply falling off a ladder and ending up in a hospital together.

He must have said that aloud because Silver let out an irritated sigh and shook his head. “Please don’t mention that story in public, people might actually start to think I’m human after all and not the greatest motivational speaker alive.”

“The only thing you motivate me to do is start up heavy drinking again whenever I’m in your presence,” Eleanor interrupted, returning with empty glasses to give the both of them a stern look. “Speaking of heavy drinking, will you be coming to the party my father is throwing at the company’s holiday gala?”

“Nope,” Silver replied with a smug glint in his eye and a smack of his hand against his knee. He looked the picture of happiness at not going and Flint found he had no idea why until the man continued to speak. “It’s for a Valentine’s thing. And as you know, while I have  _many_  lovely ladies and men rushing to have me on their arm…” Silver paused and for a moment Flint was certain he was looking at him, but no. That would be ludicrous. “I’ve decided I’d rather just bleach my eyes than go to any event your father runs.”

Flint snorted behind his hand and laughed even harder when Eleanor retaliated by smacking him on the arm.

“You’re just jealous Silver would at least have a date,  _yours_  just broke up with you.”

He tried not to visibly deflate at that. It was true that he and Charles had been planning to go together to Richard Guthrie’s party and yes, he had let Eleanor talk him into maybe kissing Charles right in the middle of the dance floor to make Guthrie shit himself in anger but that had all fallen through when Charles had fucked someone that wasn’t him. Strange how things could work out.

It wasn’t as if he had wanted to go in the first place, but the past two years with the absence of delicate china cups and a large and delicate hand in his own had left him wanting. Desire was a rampant abstract that Flint had always admired and had wanted to grasp in his own hands, to meld it for himself.

Charles had been a means to that. Real and something he could touch and perhaps, as he had said to himself many times before, even love.

But again – it was funny how life had a way of clipping your wings and returning you to Earth with the most unsatisfying thump.

Flint sighed and gave Eleanor a weary nod. “It’s the second time you’ve been right today. But Mr Silver over here is also right,” he picked up his beer and nudged Silver with it in a show of affection that he immediately regretted the moment he had done it. “I’m glad I’m not going. I wouldn’t be allowed anyway without a date, so it looks like you ruining your father’s party with the use of the gay agenda is a task that you’ll have to take on for yourself.”

Eleanor made a noise of protest but Flint found his eyes roaming eagerly towards Silver’s sudden bemused expression. He looked like a fish out of water, his eyes rolling around and around like a hamster in its wheel before he finally settled his gaze on Flint with a small, if somewhat confused, grin.

Flint’s suspicion over Silver’s confusion only got worse when the other man leaned forward to speak. “Are you serious when you say that Richard ‘I-would-fuck-anyone-over-name-the-price’ Guthrie would not take your money for his party, all because you don’t have a date?” When Flint nodded Silver barked out a laugh, slapping the top of the bar. “Well I’ll be damned, to think Richard Guthrie has a shred of romanticism in him after all…”

Silver thumped the top of the bar again, gaining Flint’s attention to see that the man beside him actually looked _excited_. For what he wasn’t entirely sure but from the way Eleanor laughed briefly and seemed to be so suddenly enraptured with the glasses she was supposed to be cleaning…

He rubbed at the red, bristly stubble on his chin, even hummed to get Silver’s animated eyes to flicker on him and settle. “ _Clearly_ I’m missing something here. Care to explain?”

“Well you not going simply won’t do,” Silver replied. It made Flint spit out the little remnants of the drink he had left into his face, coughing and thrashing at his chest like an enraged gorilla.

Silver’s response was to wrinkle his nose. “Charming. Anyway! You should go, maybe you’ll find someone to win over with that sparkling personality of yours.” He too pressed his elbow against Flint in a show of endearment he also regretted immediately after he did it. It made him pull back, faster than what could be considered normal, and give Flint a shaky grin. “Truly, _besides,_ if-“

“You’re missing out on one particular detail.” Flint interrupted with a scoff, shaking his head. It didn’t surprise him that Silver, as clever as the devil and though Flint would never admit it, just as pretty, would think of every little thing but the one important aspect that mattered. He was shrewd yes, but common sense befuddled him and it made Flint’s skin spike to know that he didn’t mind this about the other man at all. It was in fact something he rather liked. “You see you should realize I would need a date first, don’t you?” Liked _correcting_ , that was.

Silver shot him a look that Flint could only describe as a crossover between a snigger and a sneer – the result being that he looked like a dog half way between a sneeze. It was a look that many people had shot at him throughout his life and he recognized it instantly, already feeling his ears begin to burn at what he knew was awaiting him from Silver’s mouth.

And of course, Silver didn’t disappoint him: “you know there are sometimes I wonder whether you believe I’m a complete idiot, or a genius, or neither or both! Either way,” he reached over to clasp Flint’s shoulder, another unexpected gesture that made both of them wet their lips and stare over the other’s shoulder while they talked. “Don’t worry about that. The party is next week and I assure you – and you,” Silver said, turning to Eleanor with a cocky wink, “that I’ll get you a date before the time is up!”

Flint felt the back of his neck become flushed, his jaw locked with tension. “Did you not hear me? I don’t want to go, its _fine_.”

“He wants to go but he’s a loner and refuses to work through his issues,” Eleanor murmured to Silver, still cleaning the already clean glass in her hand. “Please find him a date so he won’t be miserable for the rest of the 10 years his grandpa self has left to live.”

Flint watched as the two of them high-fived with a defeated moan, slumping further onto the bar top.

“I miss the times you two hated one another.”

* * *

 

**F** lint looked at his watch for the seventh time in the space of five minutes. 8 o’clock. Turns out it had only been two minutes, not five. Nonetheless, when Flint closed his eyes, gulped and counted to ten it felt as though hours had passed and this whole event had been some washed up dream his mind had conjured up from nowhere.

He toyed at the cufflinks of his jacket, twirling the cheap plastic anchors around and around to match the tapping of his shoe against his apartment’s floor. It should have settled him, but when the woman behind him cleared her throat it only made him realize how shivers had taken over his body and the sudden pang in his chest felt questionably like nerves.

But that was ridiculous. Just as was his date (which Silver had assured him a million times was coming to pick him up at 7:50) being ten minutes late was also extremely ridiculous.

“This is _bloody_ ridiculous,” Flint said, just to reaffirm to himself that the entire situation he was in was something he should most certainly be enraged over.

But course that would be too easy, feeling right about something as trivial as the time. His companion was keen to remind him of that. “You are nervous James,” Max said behind him, walking forwards to pat away any spare hairs on his shoulders. “It is natural but please, I’ve seen your date and he will be along shortly. Just have some patience mon ami.” Her lips quirked into a mischievous smirk. “And maybe keep still? You’re wearing ‘oles into your floor.”

If the advice had come from anyone else Flint was certain he would have blown up in a fit of rage but because it was Max, and despite her insistence of seeing something good in Eleanor, he stopped his pacing and fiddled with the buttons of his shirt to keep him from looking at the knowing expression he was certain was present on Max’s face.

She had come over to keep him company on Eleanor’s instructions and while Max probably had no idea of the emotional support she would be giving him, Flint remained grateful anyhow. They had not talked a lot, even with her being with Eleanor, but when they did Flint found himself feeling calm, that and she was not completely insufferable or unintelligent – in fact she near rivalled Silver to keep him on his toes – so he never complained when she was near.

She was also very helpful at teaching him how do his tie properly to stop him from accidentally strangling himself due to anxiety attacks.

A knock at the door startled Flint from his thoughts and his head shot up from where it had been inspecting a patch of dirt on his coffee table to fix onto the door.

He gulped. Max laughed at him – had he really been that loud?

“I think maybe you should go answer before your date-“

“Open the merry fuck up Flint! We’ve got places to be!” Eleanor’s cry interrupted Max mid-speech, reminding him of Eleanor’s promise to deliver his date right at his door. God, how had he managed to forget a detail as important as that?

“ _And_ Eleanor, lose their patience,” Max added with a chuckle and eyes wide and sick with a strange adoration Flint hoped his would never look like even if he ever did fall in love. Again. It wouldn’t look right on his face that was for sure.

He inhaled sharply until his lungs felt as though they were going to collapse under the pressure. “I’m going to answer the door.”

Flint nodded all the way until he was stood in front of his doom or salvation – he hadn’t yet decided – fingers curled into a fist and his shoulders tense. He could do this, whoever it was that Silver had prepared for him didn’t need to scare him, it was all for one night and mostly it was just to piss Richard off like Eleanor had said. There was absolutely no reason for him to be worried.

That thought remained with him until he opened the door.

“John?!”

John Silver beamed back at him, grabbing both of his shoulders and squeezing tightly. He looked as per usual, handsome as ever and the indigo blue suit he wore tailored so precisely it made Flint feel dishevelled in his simple black and white suit, the blazer in question a little too small and showed off his wrists. It had been all very last minute, mostly because he had forgotten all about this date until Silver had text him about the event only yesterday. It had left him scrambling around like a headless chicken until he had grown exhausted, satisfied with the small blazer and ill-fitting shoes that he knew would bother him the next day – and all because of the desire of sleep.

Now it truly did bother him. John looked…

“You don’t look half-bad,” he heard himself say and silently cursed himself for his lack of tact when it came to being around Silver.

“James means you look wonderful John,” Max said behind him, sounding petulant for the first time since she had arrived. “Now that you’ve finally arrived me and Eleanor,” the woman stepped through the door into the small hall, her hand wrapping around Eleanor’s. “Will go and start the car. We’ll meet you downstairs.”

That left him and Silver alone which really meant that it just left them both staring at one another. Silver with a look of complete discomfort on his face while Flint figured he probably too looked as prickly as a cactus.

He half-wished Silver would put him out of his misery, say it was a joke and that the two of them could instead just go to the pub and drink their miserable lives away. But no, Silver just continued to stare at him with his mouth half-open and his hands running in and out of his pockets as though they were performing a dance that his body was not privy to.

“So…” Silver began to say but Flint, not knowing what truly possessed him to do so, cut him off to grab the other man’s hand and tug it decisively into his.

“Let’s go, we’re going to be late and Eleanor will have _both_ our heads if we make her late to her own father’s party.” Flint said, pulling Silver along with his mind spinning and his face set into a determined look that made those he passed in the hallway shrink back, and then, retreat.

* * *

 

**T** hey arrived just in time to be allowed into Richard’s party: Silver, Flint and Eleanor all gagging at the pink and white cut out hearts that were scattered around the place, along with the multi-coloured splatters of confetti that kept being unleashed by the thunderous confetti canons every five minutes at the change of song.

Max rolled her eyes at them, “It is so good to see ‘ow _‘opelessly_ romantic you all are.”

“I’m terribly romantic! My past loves would tell you all about it if I had any! ” Silver interjected and it was at that moment Flint realized his hand was still knotted in Silver’s and he was oddly okay with that. He was afraid to admit he actually enjoyed it, feeling Silver’s coarse hands in his and relishing in the care such a simple act gave to him.

But he was certain that feeling this way made him an idiot. Silver was just being a friend, an awfully good one he had to admit, and accompanying him so he would have fun like Eleanor had asked him to make sure Flint was having.

Fun. What fun could there be at a Richard Guthrie party in his business’ building that was best known for the fountain on the 3rd floor?

When he suggested that both Eleanor and Max threw him a look that declared how much of a stupid idea it was. Silver on the other hand looked delighted and nodded, enthusiastic.

“But first,” he said, slipping his hand out of Flint’s and moving to the side to snatch two glasses of wine off a waiter’s tray to present them to Max and Eleanor. “The ladies will drink and we,” he grabbed Flint’s hand again, tighter than ever, “will go find the dance floor.”

Flint opened his mouth to protest that the last time he had danced there had been a murder but it was too late. He practically flew behind Silver as the other man dragged him through the bustling crowd of the other attendees at the party, stumbling over his feet and barely missing one of the couples who he recognized to be Max’s friend Idelle and her boyfriend, Featherstone.

Eventually Silver paused just before they entered one of the rooms that Flint recognized were usually used to hold conferences. Where the large, circular table had been that he himself had used to sit at there was now a huge DJ station, propped up on a stage in the middle of the room with the DJ himself spinning out tracks. Beside the station were two guards, dressed in full body armour and looking as though they were hating every minute of it. Stuck side by side with jostling bodies next to them? Flint could see why.

With each step Silver dragged him the whole place seemed to vibrate to match the beat, sending shocks up Flint’s spine the closer they got to the overwhelming heat and electricity that was clearly emanating throughout and from the room.

But that was not what made him pause and drag Silver back.

“We can’t go in there,” he whispered harshly, pulling Silver to his side and keeping him there when his companion only snorted and tried to go in there anyway. “No really, stay here. No! Don’t go in or _he’ll see us_.”

Silver, finally realizing Flint was not at all kidding around like he had assumed before, stood still and gave Flint a perplexed look. “What, who are you talking about? Guthrie? Oh I’m sure he’s seen two men holding hands before and even if he hasn’t, who gives a shit?”

“It’s not about Guthrie!” Flint interjected, feeling an irritable sensation ensnare his chest and a fervent wave of shame wash over him. He didn’t want to admit the reason of his reluctance to Silver, didn’t want to appear fragile like a bird with a broken wing, but he had no other reason to stay behind. As much as telling the truth of his weakness to Silver made him turn hot in frustration Flint knew that there was no other way.

“It’s Vane,” he said, trying to ignore how his voice seemed to crack at the very last second.

Silver’s face dropped. “What? Vane? As in Charles?” He peered around the corner of the door that led to the dance floor for half a moment before pulling back, brow quirked in shock. “The fuck is he doing here? I don’t remember him being a bodyguard in Guthrie’s business.”

Flint shook his head. He didn’t know why Charles was there and he didn’t much care – he wanted out, out of this room, out of this building, out of this stupid event…

He went to leave but Silver gripped harder at his hand than he had ever expected, making him wince but also rooting him to a standstill, robbing him of an escape.

Silver looked remarkably happy about his decision considering Flint was a 100% sure his face resembled that of a wolf, lips pulled back into a snarl and his nose wrinkled in annoyance. “Are you serious? I’m not going in there to look like a complete fool in front of Charles!”

“You think you’re going to look a fool?” Silver had the nerve to look confused at the suggestion, as if his part of being Flint’s date wasn’t a complete lie at all. “How does that work, exactly? You have a date, he is here _by himself_ , on a job. You’ll look like the winner here!”

“Don’t you get it? This is all fake!” Flint retorted breathlessly, anger and impatience getting the better of him to the point he gripped Silver by both of his elbows and pulled him forward until they were only inches apart, the smell of cheap cologne from Flint and mint from Silver’s breath an intoxicating scent that surrounded them. “You’re here, with me, because Eleanor buttered you up into being my date so I could have ‘fun’. And Charles? He’ll know that, his not an idiot.”

Flint had known they were close because of the grip he had on Silver, but what he had not known was how scorching it had become since that realization. His throat felt parched, unable to be provided with the moisture it needed to speak anymore with how close Silver was pressed up against him, stifling him of thought and reason.

It was only when Silver made a step to get away did Flint grasp that there was no other place for the man to go but the wall behind him. The startled sound spilling from Silver’s lips when his back hit the wall made Flint stare up at his companion, catching his gaze and finding himself taking a step back when he saw that Silver, for once in his life, didn’t look to be enjoying himself even the slightest bit.

If anything he looked pale, as in ‘ready-to-vomit-in-approximately-5-seconds’ sort of pale.

The instant reaction was for Flint move one of his hands that had been on Silver’s elbow to grab at his bicep, steadying the swaying that had unexpectedly surged over his friend. “You alright? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

Silver laughed. It was short and sickly and it made Flint stand that little bit straighter. “You think that I being your date tonight was…” Silver hesitated, exhaling so abruptly it felt as though it was a knife to Flint’s chest, slashing at him, catching him off guard. “Because Eleanor asked me? That I was doing so because I was being a good friend to you?”

Flint felt a flicker of a flame inside of him that he hastily moved to put out. There would be no point in denying that he was attracted to Silver, no, John and he had been attracted to him for a very long time, even before Charles. Yet while that was true, he also conceded that there would be no point in thinking his feelings would ever be returned; he was a puzzle out of jigsaw that no longer fitted, he had no place in anyone’s heart apart from a select handful of friends. He had no hope, no future after they had left him behind – there would be nobody crazy enough to even consider him as anything but a friend or someone to warm a bed.

“What else would it mean, you coming along to this party with me?” Flint asked. He knew that he was not even worth half of what they had seen in him, the man with soft hands and the woman with a tender smile. He knew that. So surely everyone else must know it too – surely John would see that and realize the real reason why he had come to this party all along.

John stared at him for a long while and then he threw back his head with a laugh that he speedily tried to smother with his hand. The reaction didn’t surprise Flint, he knew that John would realize just in time that to feel anything beyond friendship for him would end in disaster and he couldn’t be mad at him for it. No, all he wanted right now was for John and him to grab a drink and ruin Guthrie’s fountain then get the hell out, Eleanor and the promise he had made to her be damned.

John was still laughing however and yes, Flint could concede that he thinking John had a thing for him was a laughable thought too, but he felt the needling sensation of annoyance start to set in.

“Alright that’s enough.” Flint sighed, moving away from John and cupping his forehead with his hand.

“Wow,” John rasped, his cheeks now a shade of rosy red that would put a primrose to shame. “You’re a complete idiot, you know that?”

Flint’s eyes narrowed and he felt his moustache twitch as it always did whenever John said something that made his whole body tense, usually in complete fury. “What did you just call me?”

“I said you’re an idiot, not sorry about it either.” John sniggered. He had given up completely from trying to silence his laughter, now he instead was far too busy trying to slick his hair away from his eyes, all in order to see Flint fully as he talked. “I just can’t believe it. You, one of the slyest, cleverest men around these parts and you didn’t even know that me arriving with Eleanor at your front door meant that it was _me_ asking to go on a date with you – _for real_.”

Flint blinked. Hard. He blinked again, several times. “What, wait what?”

John smirked, crossed his arms and leaned much more comfortably against the wall Flint had inadvertently pushed him against a few moments before.

“You heard me,” he said, confident as a lion and eyes bright and cheerful as a child figuring out something new. “I asked you out on a date. Subtly. Next time I should probably write it on my forehead, it seems like this time it went straight past you.”

Flint was not sure he was hearing this correctly. “You asked me on a date?” Even when John nodded, still laughing under his breath, Flint felt as though he was not in on the same joke. “Why? Have you seen me?”

John nodded and his eyes, to Flint’s surprise, lingered on the apple of Flint’s throat with a look of hunger he had not seen directed at him for a long while. It was a gaze that made Flint clear his throat, feeling his pants grow tight and his chest to feel as though his heart was beating it to a bloody pulp in order to escape.

He almost wanted to let it. It would make much more sense for his heart to leave his chest, cackling evilly as it ran away into the dead of night than witness what he was having to right now.

John was asking him…on a date.

Eleanor had known.

Max had known.

_How the bloody hell had he not known?_

“Why the hell did you not just ask me on a date like a normal person?” Flint snapped, ignoring John’s response of rolling his eyes.

Flint tugged at the sleeves of his suit jacket as though covering his wrists would also cover the fact that he felt as though he had just stepped in dog shit and everyone else had been too polite to tell him. “I thought that this was just a joke and…” He trailed off, fingers catching on his sleeve and then falling to his side. “John, I’m a fuck up.”

“So?” John shrugged and again ran a hand through his hair, making it bunch up at the front. He looked absurd and yet Flint felt his stomach flip over itself with endearment at the sight of it. “Listen James,” and another flip, he had not been called James by anyone but Max and the way John said it didn’t feel at all the same way. “We’re all fuck ups. And it’s not like I’m asking for marriage, just a date and we’ll see how it goes.”

It was truly illogical, Flint thought, how John Silver was the one making sense in this interaction and he, James Flint, was performing like an utter chump and missing the obvious.

“Oh,” he said, feeling more like a sap than ever. “Well then, I suppose-“

John pressed a hand to his waist, cutting him off with a soft kiss that took Flint by surprise. Mostly because John was smaller than him and their noses crashed together (twice) before their lips met: indulgent yet urgent, soft yet hard and breath-taking in such a way that Flint moved back after what only felt like seconds before he dove back in, eager to make it decades.

“I’m taking this as a yes,” John said between kisses, his voice sounding raw. “Though Max advised not to kiss on the first date, so maybe…”

“Shut up John,” Flint growled, moving from John’s lips to press his mouth against the curve of his throat, hips slotting in between his companion’s own.

“Shutting up!” John squeaked and the sound went straight to Flint’s groin.

Flint knew he had a lot to work on, a lot to consider before stepping further into the thought of his and John’s worlds becoming entangled into knots, but that?

That could come later.

_Much later_.


End file.
